Years had woven their intricate patterns into the fabric of Virat and Ishani's lives, turning the once-tangled threads of betrayal, passion, and reluctant union into a tapestry of unyielding love and quiet triumphs. It was now the spring , seven years since that fateful wedding under the marigold-strewn mandap, and the haveli—once a stage for family dramas and shadowed secrets—had transformed into a bustling haven of laughter, milestones, and the subtle hum of domestic bliss. The revelation of Virat's nocturnal intrusions during Ishani's first marriage with Veer had, in time, become not a scar but a badge of their predestined fire; it had shaken her briefly, yes, but the arousal it ignited had only deepened their bond, turning suspicion into a fierce, knowing intimacy that neither could deny. Veer and Priya's family had grown too—two rambunctious boys who tore through the courtyards like mini cyclones, their presence a constant reminder that wounds healed, and bloodlines endured. Maa and Papa, now silver-haired sentinels of tradition, doted on the grandchildren with stories of old Rajasthan, their disappointments long dissolved in the balm of new generations.